Beautiful Release
by cherrygurl1225
Summary: She'll guide him into a world of forbidden ecstasy, where a deep, burning ache of desire and prolonged yearning to forget will build into a steep crescendo. The need to erase Richard's disapproval and Tru's overbearing stubbornness from his mind. [Jack character study] Trigger warning for language and sexual situations.


**Tru Calling: Beautiful Release**

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Written for my **hc_bingo prompt **"falling" in which I attempt to explore Jack's descent into darkness before he decides to explore both an emotional and physical relationship with Tru. Title comes from the song _Angel_ by Sarah McLachlan. Dark fic. Trigger warnings for strong sexual situations and language.

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Music pulsates with an excruciating reverberation inside the dimly lit bar where Jack Harper, disheveled and nearly drunk, takes another swig from an almost empty bottle of beer.

However, the music doesn't seem to faze him. Instead, he knocks on the bar's smooth tabletop, knuckles flaring with temporary pain, as he tries to get the bartender's attention.

The bartender finishes cleaning a glass, then turns to face him. "You've had one too many drinks tonight, Harper. I'm cutting you off."

Jack laughs, derisive and biting. "Seriously? What's one more? I've been here every night for the last few months."

"Some job you must have," the bartender muses. "Or… it's about a girl. It's _always _about a girl."

_Tru. _

Slamming his beer bottle down, Jack's glazed over eyes ignite with a fiery intensity as he leans toward the bartender. "You don't know what you're talking about."

The bartender backs off, moving to the other side of the bar to refill the drinks for other rowdy patrons.

Satisfied, Jack leans back, downing the rest of his beer in one gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A strange floating sensation starts to overtake him and a new wave of drunken stupor courses through his bloodstream as he raises a hand to his forehead and closes his eyes, waiting for the moment to pass.

"You're back," a sickeningly sweet voice pierces through his dazed consciousness. His eyes flicker to plump ruby red lips belonging to the voice of a blonde prostitute he'd met the night before.

"So I am," he drawls, not even recognizing the sound of his own voice. "Sue me."

"On the contrary," she whispers, voice sultry and inviting against the shell of his ear. She reaches down, long fingernails grazing the front of his shirt, which stop when they find the pocket of his jeans. A crumpled five dollar bill emerges from the front pocket of his faded jeans precariously dangling from two of her fingers. Knowing the money is meant for her, she gives him a flashy smile filled with want and unsavory desire.

"You know what you want," she continues, voice dripping with sweet venom. "_Fuck me._"

The words that tumble from the prostitute's lips are more of a seduction than a command. Or maybe some odd mix of both?

Tipsy from the effects of the alcohol, he clumsily stumbles off the stool, taking her hand and following her to a private area past the bathrooms and away from the raucous din of the noisy bar.

A place where it's just the two of them. A place where he'd let her bring him over the edge. A place where he can forget and not bring himself to care.

She'll guide him into a world of forbidden ecstasy, where a deep, burning ache of desire and prolonged yearning to forget will build into a steep crescendo. The need to erase Richard's disapproval and Tru's overbearing stubbornness from his mind. The need to erase the hollow glare in Jensen's eyes when he had wrapped a protective arm around Tru, giving Jack a knowing smirk.

"What did you say your name was again?" she asks as she rakes her nails through his hair and presses her lips forcefully against his.

"Doesn't matter," he pants and finds himself relieved when she pulls a condom from the other pocket of his jeans and tears into the foil with her teeth.

Grabbing the foil packet from her as she pulls down his jeans, he puts on the condom and grabs her, leaving little space between them.

His voice cracks when he speaks, blue eyes searching her matching blues for a hint of sympathy, a bit of consolation. "I just want to forget about _everything_," he begs.

Time is a precious construct. He understands this better than almost anyone. How much longer can he let himself go? Deeper and deeper into the bottomless abyss. Losing his grip on reality as the world around him seems to tilt on an axis.

"I can help you with that," she promises before crushing her lips to his and sinking inside of him. He relishes in the orgasm that he experiences, sending him into a pleasurable whirlwind of illicit ecstasy.

Aching for a beautiful release.

And when she pulls away, leaving his body throbbing with palpable satisfaction, he remains oblivious to the deep cavity below of how far he's already fallen.

_Fin. _


End file.
